Dawn
by TeaLogic
Summary: Aveline believes she'll always have nightmares. What matters to her is the person by her side when the morning arrives. Connorline (Connor X Aveline) fluff.


**Dawn**

_Aveline believes she'll always have nightmares. What matters to her is the person by her side when the morning arrives. _

**Notes: **I had needs of a Connorline sort and I also just wanted to roll around in some fluff. Come and join me, there is plenty of room! :D

**Warnings/Content: **Connorline, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Blood, Threatening Situations, Slight Smut, Papa!Connor and Mama!Aveline,

* * *

The smell of blood seemed to stick to her skin like mould, thick and suffocating. Her fingers were stained with it. She looked up and saw it curdling and bodies lying everywhere across the street. A haze had settled over the entire scene. Not quite dust, not quite fog. It threatened to clog her up from the inside as she breathed and it was hot and muggy.

Hysteria threatened to knock her down into a ball of weeping, but like every other time she'd been here, she drifted through the violent chaos. She didn't take in details. There was no need. She knew what a body looked like. She didn't want to look, didn't want to have any more knowledge of death. Her mind was like an alarm, going off again and again _idon'twanttobehere idon'twanttobehere idon'twanttobehere_ and she had no idea how to silence it. She didn't put one foot in front of the other, but she was moving forward, peering through the mist (Mist? A moment ago it was something else she was _sure..._)

She was moving up this never-ending road and she was beginning to lose control. She started to whimper, her teeth chattering. She looked wildly around for someone she recognised, for a flash of white and blue. For someone to run up to her and hold her tight, to press their skin against her eyes and block out this awful, awful picture.

But there was no one. And then she halted violently as she came across the sight of a woman lying contorted and warped in the dirt and screamed.

Angry slashes crisscrossed the chocolate coloured skin. The thick, braided hair was splayed across the ground, the dark eyes open and glassy. The slim body was dressed in a uniform, the hat lying a few feet away from her-

_-Is that me? _She thought with horror as she saw her Assassin robes drenched with red. _But it can't be. I'm here!_

She couldn't observe something charging up to her-but heard a loud cry before she was tackled, pinned to the ground by her shoulders. She cried out, instinct immediately telling her to break free, but the arms were made of iron. She looked at her attacker and saw the face of Agaté, demented with fury, glaring at her.

"What did you do with her?!" He demanded furiously, spitting into her face. She tried to hold his hands, to prise the knife off her throat which danced dangerously on her skin.

"W-w-with who? Agaté, stop, _please-_"

"Aveline! Where is Aveline!?"

"_Aveline._" Another voice, a different one, quietly echoed Agaté's. She tried to look past his angry face, but couldn't see anyone. No white or blue. _Where are you!?_

"Agaté," She pleaded with the face of her old Mentor, trying to keep her voice calm and even, "I'm Aveline"

"False!" He spat, "No more lies!"

"It's me!"

"Aveline!" The voice rang out again, not so softly this time. Desperately, she twisted her head to see where the familiar sound had come from. It was deep, reassuring, but out of her sight still. She could feel her panic getting higher, her heart racing and she couldn't breathe. Agaté gripped her by the chin, fingers tight and harsh, the knife point pressed into her and she could feel a small trickle of blood run down her clothes.

"Traitor! Where is the real Aveline?"

"Here, it's me!" Her heart felt like it would explode, it was beating so fast. She whimpered at the pain, the unbearable feeling of guilt and wretchedness.

"_Liar!_" He shouted. All of a sudden he raised the knife high in the air, a look of resolution on his face- _how he looked when he-_

"N-no, Agaté!" She screamed, tears pouring down her face, blurring her vision.

_"Aveline!"_

The knife came hurling down and she gasped aloud as her body suddenly jumped awake. She bolted upright in bed, clutching at her face and worrying that she couldn't draw in air, that she was going to choke.

She was barely aware of someone moving around her, pushing the constricting bed sheets off her and moving pillows, as she sat stock still. She flinched as large warm arms curled around her from behind. Only when that same someone gently prised her hands off her face, squeezing them tightly, did something loosen in her chest and let her take a deep breath. Finally the gates opened and she relished in losing control, beginning to gasp and sob.

"Shh," The voice in her dream was low in her ear, buzzing and comforting. Now it was real, the breath on her face was real. The dark, strong arms holding her were definitely real, waiting for her.

"Connor-"

"Here, Aveline. I'm here."

She turned around to face Connor directly. In a frenzied manner she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung on to him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn't flinch or resist, far too experienced at it all. Slowly and silently, he wiped the tears from her eyes as she looked around their room, getting her bearings back. They didn't speak for a long moment, the both of them purely focusing on getting back to what was real after such a harsh waking up.

"Nightmare?" Connor asked softly, looking at her critically. Of course, he didn't have to ask that question anymore, but nothing would ever fit, would ever be alright unless he asked, unless they kept practising this over and over every time this happened.

She nodded quickly, "One of the worst."

A look of understanding passed between them and noiselessly Aveline buried her face in Connor's neck as her jumpy breathing began to even out. Her mind now fully realised that no, she was no longer in that world where her old Mentor held a knife to her throat and thought she was an imposter. She was in her home and it was her husband's skin that was pressed reassuringly against hers, it was him stroking her hair and whispering soothing things to her. It was _Connor_. Her world and one of the few people on Earth who understood her. One of the few people who loved her unconditionally and wholeheartedly. Someone who never made her feel guilty or unwanted.

It was someone who would never even consider hurting her.

_And nothing will take that away from me._

She focused on him, his skin, his smell, his scars. Connor's pulse was faster than normal, picking up on her anxiety. Of course, he had his nightmares as well, a lot quieter and less frequent than Aveline's, but just as powerful and frightening in their own way.

But days and months and years had taught them how to hold each other. To recognise the safety of morning with the new sunlight peeking though their window and the beauty of Homestead lying outside and waiting.

They had recognised that nightmares were always going to be their old enemy, but together, in this physical, real world, very little could touch them. They had learnt that the morning was the best form of sanctuary they had.

For a few minutes, they sat upright in their bed entwined. With each passing second, the recollection of Aveline's nightmare became more and more faint. The feeling of fear and shock always took longer to go, but already the confidence was there in her- it _would_ pass and she would move on.

"Feeling better?" Connor muttered as he pulled away slightly to look at her as he could feel her unwinding. She in turn examined her husband in the half light, looking at those sweet brown eyes that were filled with concern. His hair had fallen out of its ponytail and was poking into his face. She couldn't help herself but stare, a little transfixed. He looked positively _perfect_ in the morning. Sleep had the power of disorientating him a little, making him look brilliantly scruffy and rumpled. He must have been feeling hot last night and thrown his shirt off and Aveline had only _just _noticed. Even though he wasn't as young as he once was, he was still incredibly fit and active and Aveline thoroughly enjoyed spreading her fingertips over those taunt and _very_ strong muscles.

Half the time she wondered how in the hell she still had such terrifying dreams, when she slept next to him at night. Suddenly what she went through didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that she craved him, wanted his hands absolutely everywhere on her at once.

"Hmmm." She touched her forehead to his, her hands sliding up his chest and cupping his face.

He picked up on her modest sound and a small crease formed in between his eyebrows as he read her, "Is there anything else I could do?" he asked innocently.

Aveline grinned slyly, making Connor raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know _chérie,_" she said casually, as one her fingers traced the outline of his mouth _"_there _may be_ one or two things you could do for me."

He cocked his head curiously, "As you demand."

"I do." She replied simply and kissed him deeply, eliciting a small sound of surprise from him. She delighted at how she still caught him off guard occasionally, even after all these years. Although she had noticed that he recovered a lot quicker than he used to. Her passion burst out as she quickened her pace, eager for touch and feeling to replace that of her dream. He responded with every inch of himself, matching her and caressing her carefully, like she was made of china.

As she nibbled at his lip lightly, his hands worked their way down her nightdress, swiftly undoing the buttons and sliding the clothing off her shoulders. In a controlled descent, their lips still crashing together, Aveline lay back down on the mattress. She tilted her face upwards as Connor began to kiss her throat, legs moving carefully to straddle her waist. She made a small, soft moan as his hands fondled her breasts, her toes curling with pleasure. The cold feeling of fear across her body was weakening with every touch of Connor's lips. Her body changing from feeling those last flickers to tingling hotly with excitement. Now her breath was shallow for an entirely different reason. Connor worked his way leisurely from her neck, trailing kisses down her body, moving with an aching slowness that made a spark of desire run through her at breakneck speed. He was always skilled at building anticipation, being light with his touch and then become intense within a heartbeat, careful not to slip into a pattern. Aveline's fingers raked through his hair and she shut her eyes as her body waited.

A powerful sense of love for Connor spread across her. She could not have thought of anything better, more potent than this. How she ever coped before him was a mystery, how she could have life without him was even more unknown.

"Connor," She whispered, as her skin quivered in a particularly fierce way.

"Hush..."

A sudden, muffled cry from outside their room made Connor pause and Aveline's eyes opened. She sat up slightly to look at him, and saw that he had lifted his head, which was now at her navel, straining to listen. They locked eyes and she smiled.

"Let me guess..." She said humorously.

"The twins." He replied, shifting slightly.

"Is it Pippa?"

He shook his head; Connor always had the knack for determining the difference in yells at this time of the morning. Resting his chin on Aveline's stomach, they stared at each other as they waited for more noise, slight smirks at the familiarity of it all on both of their faces. Their children were the perfect indicators for when it was an acceptable time to get up in the morning. Any later or earlier wouldn't be right.

A few seconds went by before another wail, much louder this time, could be heard from across the hall.

"Edward" They said in unison, smiling at each other.

Sure enough, little Edward's voice bellowed from the room he shared with his sister.

"Dada! Mama! Pippa is _murdering_ me!"

"No I'm not!" A little girl retorted back haughtily. A banging sound could be heard and she squealed.

"Oh dear." Aveline muttered lightly, still grinning at her husband and pulling his ear, "Better go and stop it, Dada."

He chuckled at first, but his face darkened, "I wish I never told them about pirates."

"I don't think its pirates _chérie_, I think they've started on bandits and smugglers."

"Great," He said, deadpan, running a hand through his hair.

"Lighten up _amour_. At least they're not old enough to run each other through with real swords."

"Yeah, not _yet_"

Placing his hands flat on the bed, Connor leant forward to give his wife one light kiss on the cheek before rolling off and getting up. He pulled on a shirt over his trousers and wiggled his fingers at her before padding barefoot out and across the hallway to where the children's room was. Aveline could hear the delighted yelps at the sight of their father and then the rush to get their side of the story out first as she pulled her nightwear back on.

"Dada! Pippa is murdering-"

"-Eddy is not playing properly!"

"Phillippa," Connor's calm, serious voice cut across the both of them, "there is no need to murder your brother."

"But Dada, I'm not _murdering_ him- I'm skewering him! He's the bad bandit, and I'm the good guy who saves the day!"

"Shut up, that's not fair! You were the good guy yesterday and now it's _my _turn!"

Aveline chuckled lightly to herself, pulling the sheets back over her as she pictured her two seven year old identical children in their room. No doubt toys and blankets were everywhere. Their black, silky hair would be messed up and tangled, falling over their faces (both had it at the same shoulder length, for they were having a competition to see whose hair grew the fastest) and both would be wearing their father's old and far too big nightshirts, the loose cotton trailing across the floor. Both would be appealing to their father to take their sides, using their large beautiful brown eyes as their tool of persuasion. They were powerful weapons indeed. Aveline could rarely refuse whatever they wanted when they turned them on her, most likely because they reminded her of Connor's own, puppy-eyed look.

"Shh, you two. It's early and your mother is trying to sleep"

"But _Dada..._" Pippa's voice started to whine.

"And if you want to go and see the city next week then you will have to _very_ good like all the other children."

"Is Mama still taking us?" Edward's voice went high with glee.

"Well, you will have to go and ask her."

"Now?"

"I did not say-" But it was too late. Little footsteps were pounding across the hallway, laughing and yelling and calling for her.

_Everything always looks better first thing in the morning_, she thought blissfully as her two children came barrelling through the door and jumping on the bed, Connor trailing behind. As Phillippa and Edward snuggled into her, with Connor suddenly diving in to encircle them all in a big bear hug, her nightmare had long been forgotten about.

The day was ahead, and so was the rest of her life. This was what the morning taught her.


End file.
